Billy & The Beast (Ever After, New York #3) - Eli Easton Page 0,7

as if to see if there were cameras—which alerted me to the fact that he was up to no good. Was he going to attempt to climb over?

No. He reached through the bars with a knife . . . and cut off the most perfect bloom on the entire estate.

And suddenly, I’d seen red. It wasn’t just about the rose—I saw that now. His youth rankled. His air of bright innocence. That anyone dared to invade my sanctuary, to take something from me when this—Malfleur—was all I fucking had left, and that guy? He had the whole world out there. Yet he had to take what was mine.

And maybe even, on some subconscious level, it was simply an excuse to say something to him. To shatter that wall of anonymity. To take off the invisibility cloak.

Even monsters get lonely.

I’d shown my face. God, even now it made me cringe to think about it. But he hadn’t recoiled in horror or disgust. He’d been surprised, then . . . fascinated?

Stupid child.

And then I’d completely lost my mind. Clearly. I’d invited him to work here.

I showered, leaning against the wall for support. I’d used one of those medical-grade plastic seats in the shower for months and months. I refused to use one now. Soap bubbled over furred skin. Over scars. My fingers ran quickly over the hard bumps and ridges, hating the feel of them.

After I dried off, I did the lotion routine as quickly as I could. I hesitated at my closet. With a growl of annoyance, I pulled out a black silk turtleneck and jeans. It was too hot for the clothes, but they hid me, and that was what mattered.

I brushed out my wet hair, which desperately needed a cut, and attached the mask.

Ordering Jack firmly to stay, I headed downstairs. Ten to nine. My mouth was dry, and my heart pounded a sickly rhythm.

I should tell Billy to go away, that I’d only been testing the sincerity of his apology.

My gut twisted. The thing was, I did need help with the garden. I’d needed it for a long time. I’d told myself I didn’t care if it fell into ruin. Yet it weighed on me. It felt wrong, as if I were punishing Malfleur for my sins. Silly, of course. Malfleur was only stone and earth.

It was just that I couldn’t bear the idea of having anyone on the property. The thought of having a crew of strangers at Malfleur, of having to hide in my rooms while they ran roughshod over everything, over my roses. No.

But this young man was . . . unthreatening. Daily, he rode his bike to the overlook. Daily, he sat on that old guardrail, mindless of the fact that it could easily collapse and send him sprawling to his doom.

Such blind optimism. The stupidity of youth.

From a distance, he’d struck me as gangly and . . . earnest, somehow. A bit like a weed, the kind of “volunteer” plant you find sprouting up, already a foot tall before you notice it, but so cheery and exuberant you can’t bear to rip it out.

And then yesterday he’d looked right at my face, and he hadn’t run away screaming. Was that why I’d offered him a job?

Billy. What kind of a name was that for someone his age? Shouldn’t it be Carter or Jayden or Aiden? Perhaps it was a family name. William, maybe.

I knew all about family names, I thought darkly.

I’d tell him to go. Need or no need. Garden or no garden. I didn’t want him here.

My palms were sweating as I approached the gate. Billy stood there waiting for me. His helmet was tucked under his arm, his bike leaning up against the gate. He smiled when he saw me.

Smiled.

What an idiot.

“Oh my God! What’s this!?” Billy’s eyes lit up as we approached the potagerie.

“It is—was—an herb garden,” I said.

“Really? That’s so cool! Look at this!” Billy pushed his way in through the boxwood hedge, which had once been neat and trimmed and now managed to vie with my hair for most out-of-control growth on the estate. With a sigh, I followed.

It was almost ten o’clock, according to my watch. I did have to show him around, at least minimally, if he was to be any use whatsoever. But that had turned into a tour, somehow. One in which Billy enthusiastically wanted to know about everything.

“I’ve read about these.” Billy roamed through the once pristine white pebble paths that were now